The Obsession
by WishIWasinCali
Summary: Aragorn is not as happy as he thought he would be with his marriage to Arwen and his new Kingship. He begins to wonder what would have happened had he given in to Eowyn and his temptation. He becomes infatuated with her. This series deals with their ad
1. His Girl

She's watching him with those eyes. She's loving him with that body, I just know it. And he's holding her in his arms late, late at night. I wish…

No, Faramir has been a good friend to me. He's so happy, I can see it in his eyes. Her hand is on his leg under the table. Arwen would never do that. Suddenly he turns to her with his eyes wide, and I know where her hand has gone. I could have had this, I think to myself. This is what I turned down; rejected. They laugh. I look at Arwen. Her lips are straight, yet she doesn't look either happy or sad. She looks like a porcelain statue. At one time, I thought this was beauty. She was the model by which I judged all other women. As I look back at Eowyn, I see the color in her face; see the lines form around her mouth when she smiles. Faramir is leaning into her, whispering something in her ear that makes her cheeks turn even redder than before. I turn away- I feel dirty watching them. Watching her. When did we lose that passion? I turn back to Arwen and, unsurely, place my palm gently on her knee. For a moment her composure is shaken, and she gives me a look that says "What are you doing?" Quickly, I withdraw my hand, feeling dejected. Her stoic composure returns, and all at once I am overwhelmed with anger. At her, at myself, at Eowyn. Why is she teasing me like this? She must know the lack of passion in my own life, and seeks to rub in my face what I gave up. But then I look over at her and realize that she's not teasing me. She doesn't even know I'm here. Can't she feel me staring at her? I can't stand it anymore, and I excuse myself, drawing a strange look from Arwen, and a concerned one from Faramir. But it is Eowyn's eyes I long to meet. She looks at me briefly enough to bow her head in respect, then turns back to her food and Faramir. With that final blow I leave, admittedly in a huff.

A few months have passed. I can't help but think about her. I tell myself not to, but reminders of her are everywhere. I see Faramir constantly, at meetings, dinners, councils. Today, he reached for a paper in front of me and I saw marks on his wrist. I quickly grabbed his arm and looked at them, then him with question in my eyes. It looked as if someone had bound him. He quickly pulled his arm away, a blush rising in his cheeks, and I didn't need to hear his attempt at an explanation.

"Eowyn…likes to…" he looked at me to finish the statement. I could not meet his sheepish glance, though, for images of Eowyn- his wife- naked and leaning over his body, began to flood my mind. She ties him up? "She likes to try new things," he continued explaining himself, "she says she doesn't want us to get bored with each other. Not that I would ever get bored of her…" he trailed off and he must have seen the look on my face, for he immediately apologized. He appeared concerned that he had perhaps disturbed me. If only he knew what part of me he disturbed, he would not be so apologetic.

"No apology. I am not offended. Only a bit surprised- I would not think that you would like bonds."

He looked down, "I didn't, but she told me that the war is over- my war is over. And that I have nothing to fear anymore. It is true. I am so grateful to her. But I am rambling now, as I do when I speak of her."

I felt another pang of guilt. I would not wish him unhappiness, but his was the kind of life I imagined I would be having. All my toil and hardship. All our separation. I thought when we were finally together, finally after sixty years of waiting, that our passion would explode and carry us through our life together. Instead, I was fantasizing about another's wife. A woman who had declared her love for me! But that was so long ago now- I see no trace of that time when I look at her.

Faramir's voice reached me. "You seem troubled, Aragorn."

I wanted to punch him just then- his concern made me feel horribly guilty. I knew in the back of my mind that if I asked him for a night with Eowyn, he would grant it. He would not be happy, and it would no doubt ruin our casual friendship, but he would do it. I knew that they both felt they owed me. But I would never ask.

"Please," he continued, "talk to me. You do not need to hold everything inside. Didn't you tell me that?"

"I don't need help!" I snapped at him. I saw him revert to the way he must have been when he was faced with his father's wrath. He did not quite understand what he did wrong, but he knew it was something. "I am sorry. I am stressed. I think I will end this early, if you don't mind." I didn't care if he minded.

"That's a good idea, sir. Go to your wife, she will help you." I turned at that. He truly had no idea how lucky he was.

I could not keep some of the bitterness out of my voice when I replied, "Yes, my wife."

I count that day as my turning point. I could not get the marks on his wrist out of my mind. When I had retreated back to my chambers, I looked at my wrists, wrapped my fingers around one of them and squeezed. It did not leave a mark.

After that I began to wonder- What did she use? A belt? A scarf? Maybe, in her passion, she had ripped his shirt off and used the shreds of it to tie him to their bedpost. The more I imagined it, the more I became obsessed. Every time I saw her, my mind transformed her. I imagined her body in various sexual poses. I imagined how she would look laying on her back as Faramir towered over her, or perhaps how her face would contort as Faramir knelt between her legs. Or maybe she knelt between his legs… I began to stare at her during the few meals we all ate together. Every way her fingers moved, how she turned her body, how her lips curled around her food. I looked at their skin, trying to discover any marks hidden away. But they were careful now. The marks on Faramir's wrists soon disappeared, and I was left with the memory.

One night, the cook brought out rolls, only they were shaped as mini loaves- long and thick. I should have been paying attention as the cook described the meal, but of course I wasn't. I had allowed my gaze to fall on them, and as Eowyn grabbed a roll, I strained my ears to hear what she whispered in her husband's ear.

"I have seen _bread_ bigger than this." The way she held the bread, the smirk of laughter, but mostly the sly sexy tone in her voice—I will remember it forever.

"Eowyn!" I heard Faramir softly reprimand.

"No one heard," she whispered, still smiling.

But I had heard. I saw the look in his eyes; he would have her tonight. Maybe he would tie her up this time. I could feel myself breathing harder. I felt an urge like I have never felt before to lunge on her from across the table. I wanted to touch her. Instead of Faramir, I saw myself now, hovering over her. I wanted her tied up on the bed with her arms and legs spread before me. I wanted to run my hands all over her body, mark her in my own way- let her have marks on her wrists. I wanted to bury myself inside her and hear how she screamed my name. I wanted to feel her body move as I pounded into her. I bet I could give her something Faramir couldn't. I would take her so hard she would not be able to move. It would be quick, but it would be so good. Then maybe I would have her again- just leave her tied to the bed. I tried to snap myself out of this wicked daydream, but I couldn't, and I felt myself get hard. I knew I couldn't stay at the table. Quickly I got up and left the room without looking back. I practically ran to my chambers and bolted the door.

I wasted no time taking off my pants and laying on the bed. I closed my eyes and for the first time imagined myself with her. I could not bring myself to do it before- guilt, shame, maybe denial. But I couldn't hold back anymore. I grabbed myself- I had not been this hard in a long time. I saw her behind my eyes. Her flushed face, her squirming body sleek with sweat. She was moaning my name. I rolled over and grabbed the massage oils from Arwen's side of the bed. I rubbed them in my hands to warm them. Then I closed my eyes again and imagined myself positioned above her. I let my hand slowly move over me as if I were entering her for the first time. It was so good I had to moan. As the images came clearer I knew it wouldn't last long. Soon I was spent, with her whispered name on my breath. This was real now. The evidence had sprayed onto my chest and coated my hands.

After that, I cannot tell you how many times I spent myself using images of Eowyn. At first I felt guilty afterwards, but as it became more common, those feelings left. It scared me. I would even initiate love-making with Arwen just to have a body. Her face was no longer Arwen's. Then I had to be careful not to say her name.

As I feverishly made love to Arwen for the fourth night in a row, I realized that this had to stop. I looked down and saw Arwen's tear-stained face looking up at me. I froze, thinking I had said something that gave me away. But she just reached up her hand, and gently touched my face. "Amin mela lle," she whispered to me. My reality came crashing back, and I didn't like it. I buried my head in her shoulder- to avoid the phrase, avoid the intimacy. I thrust quickly into her, eager to finish. She moaned my name and in my head I transformed it into Eowyn's throaty voice. At that I came, thrusting deep inside her and groaning loudly to keep me from moaning that forbidden name. She held me tightly afterwards. I felt my face burning with the shame. Soon I got up and left, to the washroom. This had to stop.

After that night, I cut myself off completely. No fantasies, no staring. I threw myself into work, and into loving Arwen. We dined privately in our chambers on the nights I knew Faramir and Eowyn would be dining in the main room. After a few weeks of this, things had gone back to normal for me. I could talk to Faramir without imagining sex. We even became better friends because I was actually comfortable around him. I was just beginning to pass that stage of my life off as a freak obsession, when I had a sudden, deadly relapse.

It was their fault. Mostly. It was right after lunch, and I had a pile of papers on my desk that needed Faramir's seal. I grabbed them and walked to his office. In our newfound closeness, Faramir and I walked freely between each others offices. I thought nothing of it to just walk in, as I did that day. But instead of Faramir busily working on papers, he was busily working on his wife. She was up against the wall- held there, suspended by Faramir's cock-- which was no doubt buried inside her—and her ankles were wrapped around his waist. The folds of her dress covered their contact, but his mouth was latched onto one of her white breasts. The scene will haunt me for the rest of my life. It all happened so fast- I moaned; the papers dropped from my hand, scattering on the floor; she gasped; Faramir let her down and turned, then turned away to hide his erection and cover his wife's breast. He did not meet my eyes, but for a fleeting moment, Eowyn did. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks were burning red, her hair was plastered to the side of her face with sweat—she was so beautifully sexy. I was hard immediately, but didn't care. 'So that's how she looks…' I stayed a moment longer than I should have, watching them scramble to look appropriate, feeling glued to my spot; but when her eyes met mine again, then roved over my body, I thought I saw a fragment of desire. I couldn't take it—I knew I was hallucinating. I turned and walked away, as dignified as I could manage, knowing that she must have seen my erection. As soon as I turned a corner, I pressed myself against the wall, willing myself to take deep breaths and think of something not erotic. Even Faramir's cock hadn't decreased my arousal. He was not thicker than me, but longer. Maybe she will like something bigger, the way she looked at me... No. That look was a figment of my imagination, my lust. A few moments later I heard footsteps rushing down the corridor. I stilled my breathing, not wanting anyone to discover me in this state. Then I saw Eowyn walk hurriedly past me, not noticing anything. I saw a few stray strands of hair that had fallen out of its intricate up-do. They fell along her back, which only reminded me of where her back was and why it was there.

I don't know what made me do it, but I followed her. Out of the hallway and around all the twists and turns, until we were finally outside the large wooden doors that led to the wing where she and Faramir had their quarters. Still, I followed her, slipping through seconds behind her. She disappeared around a turn, and I quietly followed. But she is smarter than I thought, and I turned the corner only to be inches away from her face.

"Why are you following me?" she asked, her voice hard.

I stuttered for a moment- if I was still in the wild, I would be dead now. I wished I was. "I…wanted to apologize for earlier," but she knew that wasn't right—I couldn't drag my eyes away from her chest, which was heaving from the quick walk.

"For watching us? Did you enjoy it?" she asked, still glaring at me.

I couldn't meet her gaze anymore. I felt ready to spill the truth. I had fantasized about this moment for months. I would tell her how I felt and she would throw herself upon me in passion and we would make love for hours and hours. It was so stupid, but I had to try—I would never have a chance like this again. She had caught me, and this had gotten out of control.

I took a deep breath and looked her square in the eyes. "I want you, Eowyn."

Her gaze faltered, as if she did not expect this. How could she not? Couldn't she feel the heat emanating from my body? I was so tense standing there in front of her. I wanted to ram her up against the wall and finish what Faramir began. Seeing that she had no reply (which was encouraging) I continued.

"I have wanted you for months. I am sorry for…everything," I made a vague gesture with my hands, as if it could indicate all the pain I know I put her through those years ago. She stepped back from me, but she hadn't slapped me yet, so I felt encouraged. I closed the distance again. I decided that she did not know what I wanted.

"Look at me, Eowyn," I said. Her eyes narrowed as they looked at my face. Not where I wanted her to look. Out of my mind now, I grabbed her around her small waist and pulled her into me, hard.

"Feel me, Eowyn. I have been like this for months. Please."

Her eyes widened. I didn't expect it to come out like a plea, but at this point I didn't care. I knew she could feel me. It seemed like forever before she finally spoke.

"What are you asking me, Aragorn?" Her voice was raw and I knew I had her.

"Help me," I breathed, barely getting the words out before her lips were on mine.

I snapped. I grabbed her ass and pulled her into me so hard she made a small squeal in protest. But that only made it worse. I sucked on her lips, her tongue, grinding my hips into her. She pulled away from me, and I could see a bit of fear in her eyes. Of course she never had marks on her wrists- Faramir was too gentle with her. She threw herself back into the kiss, and I knew what to do. She would remember this for the rest of her life.

I picked her up, wrapping her legs around my waist as I had seen them earlier. I needed something. After walking only a few feet, I found a long table and laid her out on it.

"The bedroom is—"

"—too far away," I finished before I latched my mouth on to her soft neck. She moaned loudly, grabbing at my clothes. I did not need to be asked twice, and soon I was stripped down to nothing, standing in front of her. She looked at me for a long moment, and normally I would have been self-conscious, but I didn't care. I was going to fuck her whether or not she liked my body. I hiked up her skirt and found that she had no undergarments on. I smiled at her and she pulled me down for another kiss.

"Tell me," I breathed when our lips parted, "have you ever been fucked on a table?"

She spread her legs for me—for me!—and before she got the chance to reply, l lined myself up and was inside her. She moaned so wonderfully, as her eyes widened. I could feel the tightness- I was thicker than Faramir and I knew she could feel it. I couldn't move- I was already on the edge, feeling my balls clenching with anticipation. I leaned over her and closed my eyes, drawing deep breaths of her scent.

She gave me my few moments, before I heard her say, "I thought you were going to fuck me on a table?"

I looked at her, knowing my jaw was slack. 'Fuck her!' my brain was screaming at me. I dug my fingers into her hips and dragged her to the very edge of the table. Then, holding on for dear life, I began to move inside her. So warm, so tight. It was everything I thought it would be, and more. Soon I was moving so fast and hard that I had to keep dragging her back to the edge of the table. I was trying, I really was, to slow down and enjoy this. But I could not control myself. Her hands were tangled in her hair, pulling pins out left and right. She was moaning- no, groaning- every time I slammed into her- now high-pitched gasps, now short screams. It was beautiful. I reached up and drew one of her breasts out of the confines of her dress and massaged it. I could feel myself getting physically exhausted, but her movements, the bouncing of her breasts, the slapping of our skin, was egging me on. I drove harder and harder, the sweat dripping from me. I thought my heart would stop when I saw her snake a hand down to touch herself. It was too much for me and I felt my orgasm imminent. This was the part I was dreading.

"I won't last," I gasped, "I have to…stop."

But she sat up, grabbing my ass and pushing me into her before I could pull out. I practically screamed as I came inside her, ramming into her convulsively, sucking hard on her shoulder, smashing her chest against mine. I fought for breath for so long it worried her, for she took my face between her hands and asked me if I was alright. My mouth was wide open, and I was drawing as much breath as possible- I couldn't answer her. She smiled and lay back down.

Finally, I had enough sense to realize that I was still inside her, and I pulled out. I also fully realized that I had released inside her. She saw the look of horror I gave her, but she just laughed.

"It matters not," she told me gently, "I am already with child."

I smiled. I felt like I should say something but at that moment it seemed wrong. It took me only a few more minutes to comprehend that I had really just fucked her on a table, and again she laughed.

"Now you will say that you are sorry, and you don't know what came over you, am I right?" She was so beautiful.

"Forgive me," I said, not sure whose forgiveness I was asking, "but I am not sorry. I would have you again and again, Eowyn. You are beautiful."

She looked away and I feared that I had said too much. "I do not love you," she said to me. I was surprised by the sinking feeling in my stomach at those words.

"I know," I replied. Did I love her? To avoid the question, I began to get dressed.

"I loved you," she continued. Ah, this was the part where she would rub it in my face.

"I know," I replied again.

"No you don't. Let me finish," she reprimanded, sitting up now and covering herself with her dress. "I loved you, but not the way that I love Faramir. You were right- I did not truly love you. I didn't know enough then to distinguish between love and…lust. I know that difference now." She looked at me meaningfully. Was she telling me that she lusted after me still?

It was more than I could take. I hastily put my clothes on, not sure what to do or to say in this awkward situation. Above all, I did not want Faramir to discover us like this. I turned to her to say some form of goodbye or thank you, but she spoke first.

"Have I cured you?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. She just smiled at me and turned towards her room.

"Eowyn," I called after her. She turned back. "Will you tell Faramir?"

She seemed to think a moment before she replied, "We must wait and see. He will know one day, but not until it is over."

She had already gone through the door before I had processed her statement. This wasn't over?


	2. Closer

Closer

My whole existence is flawed. Meetings, dinners, walks; you are always in my mind. Your presence is always desired. Your smile is always welcome. The soft curves of your body, smaller than the one I possess; tougher. But not so tough that I could not control you. It is only fair- you have controlled me since the first time I saw you. Ah, that I could have warmed you. What choice was there? The world has changed. We have changed. I now have all I desire, so they say. But no. I want to fuck you like an animal.


	3. Letters to the Lost

* * *

A/N: Not based on any songs this time- I just felt it important to bring Boromir into this, because he is the one person who connects them all. 

Warning: Implied relationship between Aragorn and Boromir.

* * *

Boromir,

So much time has gone by it seems. The Gondor that you knew is no more. In fact, the Aragorn you knew is no more. I am Elessar now. You alone, as my confidant on that long journey, know what that means to me. I have Arwen now, finally with me. I wish you could have stood by my side at the moment I saw her riding towards me. In a way I am glad, though, that you were not here. That way, I had no choice. Only memories…

You were right, though, Boromir. I am weak. Men are weak, and I do not mean the race. As a male, I have too often thought only of my pleasure. You surely can attest to that.

I am having an affair, Boromir.

I do not know if you would congratulate me, or have my head. You of all, though, would understand. It is you alone I can confide in now. How I wish you could talk back, my friend. Regardless, I must talk about what has occurred, if only so that I don't tell the wrong person. It should have stopped long ago, I know. I should have stopped it. I am weak, though. Would you not laugh at me were you here now, that condescending laugh of yours, telling me that you knew it all along? But I fear you would not laugh. You would not approve of what I am doing because it affects Faramir. I promised you I would ensure no harm to him, yet I am harming him each time I see her. The lies are too much, but I am addicted; obsessed. I cannot stop myself. I partially blame you, you know. I only desired elves before I met you. Perhaps I need one of my own race, and it is as you said. You would not be able to stop yourself, either, were you to see her. Your brother has married a beautiful woman, and he loves her. That she loves him, I do not doubt. I am ashamed to say, though, that I love the pleasures Eowyn and I steal more than I love your brother. But Boromir, she is wonderful. She is passionate and wild and…everything you were. Perhaps being with her brings me back to the days before I had these responsibilities, these pressures.

I am ashamed of myself. You would surely hate me. Even that is not enough to stop me. I am a man possessed. Ah but Boromir, you cannot blame me. Arwen, she is my love, even as she ever was and has been. I cannot help but stray, though. Is it because I know she will always be there? I do not. If she ever found out…I do not know what would happen. Would she leave? I am all she has now. I am being wholly selfish and most disgusting. I almost wish for Arwen to discover this secret, so there will be an end to it. I feel as though I am living a double life. What would it have been like were you still alive? Would I be torn between you and Arwen? Would I ever have gotten involved with Eowyn? She reminds me of you, Boromir. She always challenges me. I feel not like a king when I am with her. Perhaps being with her brings me closer to you. Perhaps that is why I cannot stop myself. I am sorry. Or am I? I do not know. All I know is that it must stop.

Again, you must be laughing at me. Is this not the same conversation I had with you after that first time in Lothlorien? But I was not a married man then, Boromir. I was sure it would never come to this. I wish you were still here, my brother.

Aragorn

* * *

Brother,

I miss you every day. You would have me be happy, and I am. I am happier than I have ever been in my life. My happiness only makes me miss you more, though. I grieve that you will never meet Eowyn, that you will never meet my children. You would love Eowyn, I think. She is fire, like you were. I'm not wholly sure she would even be with me were you here, for she is so alike to you that it pains me at times. I am happy, though, Boromir. Truly happy. I wish you could have known that.

And, brother, you would love Elessar. He wants only what is best for our country. He is kind and honest and wise. He is wholly unlike father. He is a good man, and I love him. He has become like a brother to me. It must have been you who told him to look after me. You always thought I needed looking after, when really it was you, brother. He is constantly concerned about my welfare, and Eowyn's as well. His care helps to ease the pain of your absence. I do not wish for him to replace you, though. I know how hard it would have been for you to accept him in this position, but I accept him completely.

Eowyn loved him. I think she still might, but only as her liege. Indeed, it distressed me to discover from Merry how she felt about Elessar. She would not consider my suit for her feelings were too clouded. It is in the past, though, and I do not grudge her her feelings for Elessar. How could one not love him? I still cannot believe that in the end, she chose me, and for that I am the luckiest man in the world.

I will always feel an emptiness for you, dear brother, but it is healing because, finally, I am loved.

Faramir

* * *

Boromir,

This is strange, but I do not know what to do, and I have no one to confide in. Faramir always tells me how I remind him of you. He misses you still. He tells me stories of how you always were there for him, and of how he wished to be like you. It reminds me of my own brother. I wish I had the chance to meet you. There is so much of Faramir's life that I will never share; you, your mother, your father. Perhaps it is best that I do not know your father. Was he really so cruel to Faramir? Why did you not protect him from that? He still bears those scars. What's done is done, I suppose. I fear, though, that the Faramir I know is not the one that you left not so long ago. He has been changed by the horrors of his life, as I suppose I have. If only you had returned, I would know the real Faramir. Perhaps he would not have loved me, though.

But I digress from the point. It is hard to put in writing, because then it will be more real, even though you will never read this. Still, I feel your judgment. I know you loved Faramir very much, and always sought to protect him. I love Faramir very much, as well, but Aragorn is my king, and he comes to me for release. I cannot say no! I thought it would be just once, to feel the power, to relive the old feelings. I thought I would never have to tell Faramir. I do not want to hurt him, but each time Aragorn comes to me, with that look in his eyes, I feel like the person I was before. I love my life now, but Faramir treats me as a princess. Though I do not protest overmuch, I long for the days I rode free on the plains. I have heard of your mother, and how she withered in this city. I fear for myself, that I will have the same fate.

Soon we will move to Ithilien. There, we will have our own life, away from the courts, the walls, and Aragorn. I will be free there to tend my own gardens and to ride where I will. I will be free to move on past the days when Aragorn controlled my every thought.

I must go now, it is time to meet Faramir for dinner. And afterwards…Faramir deserves more than this, and he must know that I am with child. Yes, your nephew that you will not know. Would things be different if you were here? I know not. I do know that I have made a mess of things, and I will make them right soon. But not tonight.

Eowyn


	4. The Secret

Title: The Secret Rating: R  
Warning: Adultery, Sex  
A/N: "The Secret's in the Telling" by Dashboard Confessional is the inspiration for this song. The lyrics are regular, the story is in italics. You can read it all together, read lyrics first, then story, or whatever. I tried to blend it well. I highly recommend listening to the song so you understand the climax of the piece. Aragorn's POV.

The signal is subtle  
_ My gaze lingers just a little longer on hers. _  
We pass just close enough to touch  
_ Our arms brush as we pass,_  
No questions  
_ And my look asks her to meet me tonight._  
No answers  
_ I know she will._  
We know by now to say enough.  
_ Her silence is her acquiescence._  
With only simple words  
_ "Good evening," I say,_  
With only subtle turns  
_ And then I leave_  
The things we feel alone for one another.  
_ And no one knows but us._

There is a secret that we keep

I won't sleep if you won't sleep  
_ She comes late, and knocks softly._  
Because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given.  
_ I am afraid something has gone wrong, someone has found out,_  
We are compelled to do  
_ But her smile reassures me._  
What we must do  
_ And as she turns to lock the door,_  
We are compelled to do  
_ I am in awe of her beauty_  
What we have been forbidden.  
_ And I take her in my arms._  
So I won't sleep if  
_ We lay together until well past midnight,_  
You won't sleep tonight.  
_ Even after she says she must go._  
Our act of defiance.  
_ Her husband will be missing her._  
We keep this secret in our blood.  
_ I wonder what she tells him, and if he believes her._  
No papers,  
_ There is certainly no evidence,_  
No letters,  
_ Not even a mark on her body,_  
We pass just close enough to touch  
_ And we never approach in public._  
We love in secret names  
_ She still calls me Aragorn, not Elessar_  
We hide within our veins  
_ And the weight of that name is gone when we are together._  
The things that keep us bound to one another.  
_ It reminds me of what we went through before I became King._  
Until the last resilient hope  
_ Estel, I am called also,_  
Is frozen deep inside my lungs  
_ But Eowyn is the hope that keeps me going._  
And my broken fate has claimed me  
_ We are on borrowed time, and it must be paid back,_  
And my memories for its own  
_ But I will take what she offers, saving memories for times to come._  
Your name is pounding through my veins  
_ Her body is hot beneath mine,_  
Can't you hear how it is sung?  
_ And I am desperate and pleading for her._  
And I can taste you in my mouth  
_ Her skin tastes of our sweat, and her own musk,_  
Before the words escape my lungs  
_ And I can no longer hold back from release,_  
And I'll whisper only once.  
_ Just as I can no longer hold back the words she does not want to hear,_  
There is a secret that we keep.  
_ "I love you."_


	5. Talk

A/N: Next part in the series Obsession, this part loosely inspired by Coldplay's "Talk." If you look closely, some of the lyrics are in the text. Please read and review!

Frustrated, Faramir, threw himself down on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

"I've been trying to reach you, brother," he said aloud, distress changing his voice to a meek plea. "I'm trying so hard, but I can't get through," wishing he wasn't talking to himself, alone in the room. "I need to talk to you. I cannot get through this alone," he whispered.

He thought he could. That first night when she did not return until late- too late-he brushed it aside. It happened again, though, and eventually became routine. Every few days, she would return to the chambers late, often with a smile on her face, a flush of happiness surrounding her. He questioned her gently, one night after this had been going on for a few weeks, asking where she had been, why she seems so hurried, is something going on? She carefully brushed his concern aside, saying she got caught up in her work in the Houses of Healing. Said something about herbs and bandages, but he was so tired- he had been asleep, it was that late- that he brushed it off and rolled over again. Before he fell back asleep, he thought he heard her sigh in relief.

He woke up the next morning, her lying next to him, still asleep, and suddenly he knew. There were no herbs, no bandages. There was someone else. It all began to add up in his head. Why had it taken him this long to see? He knew why, of course. He loved her, blindly. How dare she take advantage of that!

He had been angry, then, that morning. He got out of bed, unable to look at her, yet wanting to, desperately, to find the traces of the other man that he felt must be on his wife's body. He wanted to examine her skin, to look for his marks- bruised, bites, scratches, kisses. He wanted to lean down and smell her, try to discern his scent coating hers. He wanted to dip his fingers…there…to see if the traces of her infidelity remained. He wanted to kill the man who thought he could get away with this. Dressing quickly, he left the chambers, and walked to the stables. He saddled his horse, and left, without a thought to where he was going or where he was supposed to be. The hard ride took all his energy, and he felt exhausted, from thundering over the hills and yelling his pain to the sky. And when he came back, hours later, to find her gone, he was less angry.

It wasn't until later that night that he made his decision. She swept into the room, the first time he had seen her since he left, and he thought she was fairly glowing, and was struck for longer than a moment by her beauty. Not noticing his brooding appearance, she walked to him and instantly enveloped him in an embrace. He wretched away from her though, unable yet to get over the betrayal, unable to see beyond another man's hands on her body. She looked up into his eyes, then, with brow furrowed and eyes hurt, confused by the violence of his action. As he met her gaze, and felt the immediate urge to console her, he knew what was going to happen. He knew he would not bring it up. He knew he would allow her to continue, because he could not bear to see her hurt. He did not want to be the reason why the happiness left her eyes, why her glow was lessened. If this other man made her so happy, then he would put up with it, because he loved her. Loved her more than himself, valued her happiness above his, no matter what the cost was.

Or at least that's what he thought that night. Now, he thinks he is unable to continue with the charade. Each time she comes to bed late, or disappears during the day, he cannot help but think of her in another man's arms. He doesn't want her to go, wants to be everything that she finds, craves in this other man. He didn't think he was lacking, would never think so in the bedroom. They still make love, as passionately as before, though not as often. And Faramir knows why, never brings it up, doesn't want to see the look of hurt or disappointment on Eowyn's face. He finds he still loves her, above all else, still cannot bear to see her hurt or denied in any way, even after this has dragged on for more than two months.

He finds, though, that it is slowly eating away at him, mentally. He begins to wonder what they do together, his Eowyn and this other man. Is it just about sex? He thinks that he could handle that, if it was just a mutual pleasure situation. He would rather have that then- and he feels a painful clenching in his chest at this next thought- have it be about love. He quickly reassures himself, though, that Eowyn does still love him. After all, it is his- _their_- bed that she returns to each night, no matter how late she is.

And so he finds himself, too far into their dual deceptions, talking aloud to Boromir, whom he knows will never talk back. He fears he is beginning to lose his mind, relying so much on his lost brother of late. He knows of no one else to confide in, though. Afraid of gossip, he cannot tell any of the other lords or court. He thought, for a moment, to confide in Elessar, but he has noticed how busy his King has been, and would not want to shame himself to such a man as his liege by admitting that he cannot control even his wife.

Instead, he throws his head back onto the bed and sends up his thoughts to his brother, wishing he could climb a ladder up to the sun to find him and cry on his shoulder and be comforted by the strong arms of his protector, just one more time.


	6. Unfaithful

A/N: Thank you for the feedback I have received. As I said in the summary, this story is **heavily** based on the song "Unfaithful" by Rihanna. I don't know when the next installation to this series will be, because I'm out of inspiration! I've been trying to make each chapter correlate with a song, and I'm out of ideas for songs. We'll see what I come up with…Thanks again for feedback- it is much loved!!

I am standing in front of the looking glass. Faramir tells me that I look beautiful, and I turn to smile at him, feeling guilty, but not showing it. Over the past few months, I have become quite good at that. I am pinning my hair up (though I know soon that all the pins will be pulled out) and I can feel his gaze on my back. Lately, he has been watching me more often, has become more interested in how I spend my days. A quick glace at his reflection confirms that he is, indeed, looking at me, a sad smile on his face until he covers it quickly. A look passes between us, before he lowers his eyes and all of a sudden my heart jumps into my throat.

And I know he knows.

Now I can feel it in the air; it is between us as he leans in to kiss my cheek. I can feel it there, too; his kiss is different. He knows I am unfaithful. And I know he can read me well enough to know that I read him, as well. He backs away, and I never think to tell him the truth. Just keep hiding from him, lying to him.

Presently, he asks me how long I will be gone, on my walk. I tell him it won't be long, because the air is gaining a chill at this time of night. I didn't have to say this, this lie. He already knows that I am not going for a walk. We both know it. I can see it in his eyes. I can see the pain there that he tries to hide. He will not say anything to me. He will let me go into another man's arms. And I know it is because he loves me.

I put a final pin in my hair, kiss him on the cheek, and turn to leave.

"Eowyn," he calls me. I stop, though I am already mostly out the door. I do not turn, though. I cannot bear to see his face. He continues, "You are my life. I love you." It catches me for a moment, my eyes shutting in self-loathing. He is pleading with me to tell the truth. I cannot.

"I love you, too," and I can't even turn to look at him, just walk out the door, for I know what I will see. He is slowly dying. Every time I leave like this, every time I leave for my "walk," every night I come home late, lying about my findings in the Houses of Healing, it kills him inside. How long has he known? Suddenly, the pain, the guilt, is too much.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I don't want to be the reason why, every time I walk out the door, I see him die a little more inside.

I crumble to the ground, far enough away from the door that Faramir won't hear my sobs.

I am his life, he told me. I don't want to take that away from him. I don't want to take away his life. I don't want to hurt him anymore. How did I not see it on his face? How long as he known? Did I think he was stupid, that he wouldn't know? Suddenly, I realize that I have been the stupid one. I am killing everything I have, everything I love. For what? It is different with Aragorn, true. But there is nothing there. There will never **be** anything there. Nothing will come of it but hurt; already, there is hurt. I did not want this.

This will be the last night, I promise myself.

I don't want to do this anymore.


	7. It Ends Tonight

A/N: Aragorn's POV. Story based on "It Ends Tonight" by the All-American Rejects and "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol.

When she arrived, I was waiting for her in my study. I am ashamed to admit, but I could not concentrate on anything but the thought of having her in my arms soon. I finally heard the door open, and looked up at her as she walked through it, only to close it firmly behind her and throw the lock. My joke about her tardiness died on my lips, though, as I looked into her eyes. Her posture, also, gave her away. There was something there- coldness again. Ice. Her arms were crossed tightly at her chest, and she met my gaze for only a moment before dropping her head and walked towards me. I waited for her to speak. When she didn't, I reached out to run my hand down her arm, but she shied away.

"It ends tonight," she told me, her voice hoarse. My mind reeled. Only one thought came to my mind.

"Did he hurt you?" I asked, stepping closer to her again. Now she met my eyes.

"Of course not. He would never do that. _I_ hurt _him_. He knows. I can't do this to him anymore." She looked away again, and after a moment, turned to leave. She was opening the door when her words finally registered. With one arm, I slammed the door shut again, even as she was opening it. She turned to face me, confused.

"Please," I began. I didn't know what to ask her, though.

"Aragorn, don't make this harder than it has to be."

"It already is, Eowyn. This can't end, I'm not ready. You said you wouldn't do this to me, remember? You told me you would never just end it. You can't do this!" I felt myself getting angry with her, because really, I was angry with myself. I knew this would end. I told myself everyday to do what only she had the courage enact. Secretly, I think Arwen knows, too.

"Aragorn…"

"No! Please!" I was frantic, I knew it then, I know it now. I was losing everything that had come to mean anything to me in those last weeks. But I saw her face, how she had shut herself down, and I instantly thought of the way she looked the first time I saw her in Edoras. So beautiful, but so cold. And I remembered how I had done that to her once, and I did not want to do it again.

"Please," I began, not quite knowing what I was asking for.

"Aragorn, I cannot sleep with you anymore. It ends tonight, right now," and she turned to go.

"Wait!" I called, desperate to keep her here longer. Just so I could look at her again, to know that she is here because of me and for me. She turned to me, a pleading look in her eyes.

"Don't do this, Aragorn," she began, but I had to, I could not just let her walk away.

"If I lay here, would you lie with me? If I just lay here?" I moved to the couch in the room, along the wall. It was barely wide enough for two, but I moved over as far as I could. I put my hands at my sides, so she would know I wasn't going to trap her. "I just need to feel you one more time," I whispered. She stood above me for a moment, thinking about what to do. I closed my eyes. If she left, I did not want to see her go.

And then I felt her warmth on my chest. I felt her breasts pushed up against me, and I looked to see her head on my shoulder. Her body shook softly as she cried, and it pained me to know that she was in pain. After a few moments, she spoke again.

"Faramir will be—"

"Shh," I interrupted her. I did not want this moment to end. "Just lie with me and forget the world."


	8. It's Not Over

Chapter 8 – It's Not Over

Based on the song of the same title by Chris Daughtry

A/N: SORRY it took so long. Too much work, too little inspiration. Hopefully, the rest of the story will be up in a more timely manner. Thank you for sticking with me!

No matter how hard she tried, Eowyn could not rest. She had returned after Aragorn had fallen asleep, gently prying herself from his arms. She knew she was hurting him, but a small part of her welcomed that. 'Now he knows how I felt,' she thought to herself, but she instantly shunned that idea. It was cruel, and he had not been purposefully cruel to her. He had only chosen a different woman, like she was now choosing a different man.

That man was now laying next to her, his back towards her with the blankets pulled up to his chin. She ran her hands gently through his hair. She had yet to tell him she was with child. She did not know why. It should have been something that brought her joy, yet all she felt was anxiety and fear. She was not sure she wanted the child. So much had changed in her life, and so soon. She had no idea what kind of mother she would be. She could hardly remember even having a mother, and all she remembered was the pain her mother had gone through before her death. She knew that her mother had not loved her and Eomer enough to stay in the world for them, and she was afraid of not loving her child, as well.

Regardless, she knew in her heart that Faramir would be elated. He wanted a child, not only to ensure his line, but to complete their new life together. He had such dreams for their place at Emyn Arnen, and he could hardly wait to get there. She hoped to use that news to dull her next admission. She would not tell him it was Aragorn she had been sleeping with, for she knew enough to know that would destroy him. He already felt insecure, she knew, and had, until their marriage, repeatedly asked Eowyn if he was only a substitute for one whom she could not have. All the work she had done to reassure him that he was an honorable man, of the same qualities as the King, would be unraveled in a matter of seconds. She did not know if it could be kept from him forever, but she had to try.

Now, on a moral high from having ended it with Aragorn, she decided she would tell Faramir everything (with selected omissions of course). Once again, she ran her fingers through his hair, but not as lightly. She knew that any firm touch would instantly wake him.

"Faramir?" she questioned lightly, "Are you asleep?"

"No," he replied, though his hoarse voice sounded like he had been woken up. She turned into him and he put an arm around her, holding her close.

"I have something to tell you," she began. "I do not know how you will react- I have been afraid to tell you this for some time." She felt his body stiffen. 'So, now the truth is revealed,' he thought to himself, as he steeled his emotions for the admission he was expecting.

"Faramir," she continued, "I am with child." She turned her face upward to look into his, but there was not enough light to see his expression.

Faramir froze. This was not what he was expecting, and the shock of this confession paralyzed his speech. Then, before he could help himself, he pushed her away from him to sit up. He towered over her and he blurted out the first thought that came to him. "Is it mine, Eowyn?" His voice belied his anger and hurt, and she recoiled further from him, though she had expected the worst.

She stared at him, not able to answer, and he asked again, this time with pain in his voice, "Eowyn, is it mine?"

"Of course," she replied, hurt by his accusation, "what do you take me for, a common whore?"

"I should not have had to ask that question of my wife."

"You do not. I would never be so careless as to shame my house and yours in such a way." She heard him take a deep breath.

He had envisioned this conversation so many times, but he could not have possibly planned for this. He did not want to yell at her, for he knew that she did not respond well to that. She would yell back, and then it would all be lost.

He pulled her close again, knowing it was time to clear everything that had been lying between them since the day he found out.

"Eowyn, you and I both know why I have reason to doubt. I have known of your infidelity for quite some time. I had hoped it would pass, and that it didn't mean anything. I had hoped you were not careless—"

"You do not believe me about the child?" Her voice was still angry. She had never thought he would doubt her, but when she was answered only by a sigh, she knew he did.

"Faramir! You must believe me."

"Then you must tell me the truth, about everything. I would hear how it started, and why. Why you would risk everything. Please, Eowyn. Let there be no more secrets between us!"

She lay down for a moment, silent. After a time, Faramir thought she would not speak at all, and said, "It is not over, Eowyn. I must admit, I was shocked to realize this. I still love you, though it pains me deeper than any wound I have received. But I will not abandon you. You are the only one I have ever loved. You brought me through the Fire and the Shadow, and I will not give that up this easily. I have, though, taken all a man can take, even one of my peaceful nature. I must know now what has happened, and your reasons for it."

After another, shorter silence, she began. "I had known I was with child for a week. He saw me walking in the hall, and fairly cornered me. He told me that he…desired me. And he kissed me. I will not say I resisted, though I knew it was wrong. That was the first time."

"And did you desire him, as well?"

"Yes." She could not meet his eyes.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Eight weeks."

"How many times have you lain with him?" His voice was stiff, as if this were an interrogation of a traitorous soldier, not his wife.

"Why must you know? It will only hurt you. Please, Faramir. I am sorry. I do not love him, I never did. It should have never gone this far. It should never have happened at all. I have told him to leave me alone, that it was a mistake and that it is over."

"Does he love you?"

"He has a wife."

"That does not answer my question, though your avoidance of it may."

"He thinks he loves me. But he is only confused."

"It is not difficult to love you, Eowyn. He may truly love you, and that I cannot abide."

"I have chosen you. This he knows. There is no other who can love me like you. I never intended to hurt you, you must understand."

"I believe you," he said, "but you _have_ hurt me, Eowyn." At this admission, she finally began to cry. "I thought we were happy. You gave me no reason to believe otherwise. Now, doubts plague my mind. What have I done to turn you to another? What does this man give you that I do not?"

She turned away at this, trying to control her tears. It was tempting now to tell him everything- that sleeping with Aragorn made her feel powerful, wanted. It made up for how he had hurt her in the past. She did not want to lie any more to him, but she knew she had to.

"Nothing," she whispered.

She felt him rise from the bed, and watched him cross the room, to pour himself some water. He took a shaky breath, then a large drink before he continued.

"I have been so scared you would leave me. I told you once that I did not want to lose what I had found," he turned back to her now, "and I cannot lose it now. I cannot lose you, Eowyn. Whatever you need, let me give it to you. I vowed to provide for you, take care of you, love you. I want to do that. I can forgive you, Eowyn. I already have."

She had expected his anger and had prepared herself for it. She was unprepared to handle his forgiveness. It undid her utterly. Seeing that she would not stop crying, he came over to her again, and laid beside her, pulling her close and running his hand through her hair.

"I wish for us to be strong. I wish for our marriage to be one of love, not of convenience. Above all, I do not want to become like my father. He would scorn me for my behavior now. He would have had this man found, and ensured that he did not sleep with another woman again. I will not pretend I haven't entertained such thoughts. For a fortnight I have let this continue, let you go to him, knowing that any time I could follow you and discover the truth. I could see who this man was, what he looked like, what he did to you--" He sighed, and began again. "I wish us to be strong."

"We will be," she reassured him. "We already are. I did not know what to expect from you- I was afraid, and ashamed, to tell you the truth. Both about the child, and my…mistakes. I had expected you to be wroth, and to yell, though I do not know why. I have never seen you so."

They lay in silence together for awhile, before, sleepily, Faramir drew her closer, until her back was flush against his chest, and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"You will be a good father," she said softly. She could feel his smile against her head, and as his hand found its way to her bare belly, she felt more loved that she could ever remember.


	9. I Just Want You To Know

I Just Want You To Know

Inspired by the song by the Backstreet Boys

Warnings: semi non-con, sex

"You look beautiful," Faramir said to Eowyn, meeting her eyes in the mirror as she was fussing about her hair. She had been getting dressed for close to an hour now, and they were late for the party thrown in their honor. "It is not like you to care so much for your appearance," he said, coming closer to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

"I know," she replied, leaning back into his touch, "but tonight is important. This child will be your heir, and his announcement is important to all. I wish to look the part."

"You keep referring to the child as a boy. I hope you will not be disappointed with a girl."

"No, of course not. I just…know it will be a boy." She turned to kiss his neck, indicating this was the final say. She did not want to tell him that it was Aragorn who told her it would be a boy. She had asked him once, as they lay together, what the sex of the child was. He said he knew, but did not want to ruin the surprise for her. She insisted, and he told her how he saw her first child being a boy and Faramir's heir.

Faramir gently patted her belly, which was showing now, no matter how baggy her dresses were. Tonight, though, the coral-colored dress she wore was fitted below her bust, and the light fabric hugged close to her growing stomach so that it was apparent to all she was with child. Just then, there was a knock on the door, and a timid voice called them from outside.

"They have come to fetch us," Faramir said gently. He knew Eowyn was not looking forward to being the subject of such scrutiny and public perusal. He, also, was not relishing the fact that they would have to be in front of so many eyes. He still wondered, occasionally, who the man that had slept with his wife was. Would he be there tonight? Would she look to him, give him away? He thought not; she had been by his side almost constantly these past few weeks since their confrontation. She seemed more devoted than ever, and he knew she was genuine. He had been cautious after that night, but now he felt almost certain he could let his guard down, and that things could be perfect for them again. He reached out and took her hand, and together they walked into the main hall.

They were greeted warmly there. Most of the court was there, and there were many Rangers with whom Faramir had served. He made a point of including them in as many happy events in the city, to let them know both how they were appreciated for all their efforts during the war, and how he did not think he was above them because of his new title.

Shortly, they all sat down to a feast, Faramir and Eowyn taking their place at Aragorn's right had, while Arwen was seated to his left. Try as she might, Eowyn could not bring herself to meet the Queen's eye. She had failed to think of the implications of her actions on the royal family. Had things been as tumultuous for them? Did Arwen know? Eowyn couldn't help but wonder why the Queen was not yet pregnant. Maybe it was different with elves, she thought.

Throughout the meal and the revelry of the night, Eowyn felt Aragorn's eyes on her. She had been dreading being in such close space with him again; she had successfully managed to avoid him in the weeks following her confession to Faramir. But now her husband sat next to the man whose hands had touched her. Her husband laughed and jested with the man whose lips had kissed her. She began to feel overwhelmed. Excusing herself, she retreated down the hall, away from the noise and merry-making.

She made her way to the balcony just outside the grand hall. Leaning on the railing, she took a deep breath. Balancing Aragorn and Faramir had not been easy; trying to hide the feelings of being close to Aragorn again was harder than she thought. She had to admit to herself, Aragorn was intoxicating. She was constantly reminded of the feel of his lips and skin on hers when he was near, of the excitement and newness of their encounters. Her life had been lacking that in these past weeks, and she missed it. She knew she did not love Aragorn; she could not. The only thing that kept her from falling into his arms again was Faramir. His love for her was pure and true. She was already so thankful that he had forgiven her, she would not do anything to hurt him again.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see who it was- she had heard no one approach. She was not entirely surprised to find Aragorn there, and before she had time to react, his lips were upon hers, and he was pressing her back against the wall. She did not kiss him back, but put her palms on his chest and pushed. He would not relent, though, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Finally, he released her mouth, and she met his eyes. They were dark, and for a moment she was afraid of the desire she saw there. He was bearing down on her again, and this time she stepped out of the embrace and made to leave. His hand on her arm stopped her, as she was pulled back onto the balcony.

"Please, Eowyn," he gasped, lowering his head to lick and bite at her neck.

"Aragorn," she sighed, "stop." He ignored her, and his hands came up to palm her breasts. Again she pushed him away, saying "Anyone could come out here! What has come over you?"

"I just want you to know, Eowyn. I love you. You must know. I cannot bear to be so near to you, and not to touch you, or have the hope to. I need you. I've been trying to let you go. Some days, it is easy, but there are some times when all I can think of is you. Please, one last time. I beg you," and he got on his knees now before her. A rush of power swept over her- here was the king, on his knees for her. She let him kiss her hands, suck her fingers into his mouth. She knew she should leave, but could not bring herself to. All at once, he got up from his knees, and pulled her into the far corner of the balcony, shielded from view by the pillars. He pressed against her, and she could feel him, hard against her leg. He was kissing her again now, with more purpose, and she found herself kissing him back. She was loathe to admit it, but she had missed him as well- missed the passion he had for her.

"Yes," he breathed, kissing his way down her chest. He began to drag up her skirts, but her hand stilled him. The apologetic look in her eye was all Aragorn needed to know that she would not allow him to take her as he once did. "You will be true to him now, though you kiss me and allow me to touch you?" he asked, frustrated, meeting her eyes.

"Yes," she replied, in a tone brooking no argument. "I will not lay with you again- I owe him that much." She thought that would be the end of it, but Aragorn began to untie his breeches, and then she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Then you must make it up to me. You have left me wanting." And with a firm hand, he pushed her onto her knees in front of him. She put her hands on his hips to brace herself, and there was his cock in front of her, in his grip.

"I am not your whore," she said, making to get up. But his hand kept her down, and she once again felt a pang of fear. She had never seen him like this; he had been rough with her before, and they had occasionally played at it, but she always knew he would stop if she asked. Now, his eyes held no argument, and Eowyn began to feel as though she really did owe him something. She had told him she would not simply leave, yet that was what she had done.

Aragorn began to stroke himself in front of her, and despite herself, she wanted him. He moved forward, at the same time pulling her head towards him, and she accepted him into her mouth, hearing him curse softly. Faramir had always balked when she offered this pleasure, thinking it too base for a husband and wife, though he greatly enjoyed it when she convinced him. Aragorn, though, had no qualms about any sexual act, and Eowyn had developed a skill for this one. Soon, he was holding her head in place as he thrust shallowly into her mouth. Her hands were once again on his hips, in an effort to slow him down and keep him from choking her, but he was having none of it. He spoke to her softly, saying how he had missed her, how he loved her, how good it felt to be inside her again. He came in her mouth, something he knew she did not particularly like, with a groan and a muttered curse. Leaning his head against the wall in front of him, he waited a moment while he regained his composure, before lifting her gently off her knees. He quickly made himself presentable again, in case they should be interrupted, but did not stop kissing and nuzzling her.

"Let me touch you," he breathed, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm. "I cannot get enough of you."

"Aragorn," she chided, "that is enough. This has been my parting gift to you. Do not ask more of me."

He sighed heavily then, closing his eyes as if to will away her words. "You make it sound a hardship. Do you truly have no love for me?"

"You are my liege-lord, and I owe you my life, yet you were also my bane, and the reason for my darkest time. I doubt that any who have met you have not loved you, myself included."

"You avoid my question," he said, moving closer for another kiss.

"I do not love you as you wish, not anymore," she said, turning her head from his lips so that they met with her cheek.

He took her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs against her cheekbones. She tried hard to not turn into the touch. "You are happy?" he asked softly.

"I am."

He smiled at her, and leaned in for a last, chaste kiss, which she granted.

"I must find Faramir," she said softly, and with that, he let her go and watched as she disappeared down the hallway, back to her husband.


	10. Is It Still Me?

Is It Still Me?

Based on the Panic! At the Disco song "Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off"

Warning: even more non-con/angry sex. Angry!Faramir.

Author's Note: I realize this is a bit far-fetched for Faramir, in terms of canon examples, but I think he has it in him to be vengeful and angry. Look at his father, and his brother. It was held in check, I think, but a traumatic, hurtful event such as this could easily bring out the worst in someone, even a gentle soul like our Faramir, I think.

When Eowyn returned to the ballroom, she found that Faramir had left. No one could tell her where he went, so she decided to wait for him in their chamber. When she stepped into the room, she found Faramir already there.

"Faramir!" she exclaimed, but all other words died on her lips upon seeing his face. It was grave and pale, his jaw set in a grim line, yet she could see that he had been crying. She looked around the room and noticed that several of her trunks were out and partially filled with her things. Her wardrobe was open and it appeared as though Faramir had lifted everything out in one handful and dropped it into the chest, not caring that trains and sleeves were sticking out every side. Her vanity was empty. Most of her things had been swept into a small box, but there were several items on the floor, and her perfume bottle was broken on the other side of the room. Its heavy scent of jasmine and lavender permeated the small space. She could hardly imagine him throwing it there in a fit of rage, though that is what she knew to have happened.

"Faramir," she began, panic setting in. He knew.

Eowyn did not know that, as she had left the party, Faramir had watched her, trying to excuse himself from conversation to make sure she was alright. He was about to leave when he had seen Aragorn slipping out of the same hallway. Something clicked in his head then, and with a feeling of dread, he had followed Aragorn, who was so intent on following Eowyn that he did not hear anything. From behind a pillar, Faramir had witnessed the whole scene, had seen his wife on her knees before his King. The man he trusted. The man he served.

He wanted to close his eyes against their kiss, against seeing Aragorn's hands cradle her face, against the look in her eyes, but he was inexplicably drawn to it, like picking at a festering wound. He had felt angry, betrayed, ill, but he had stayed until they both had left, hiding in the shadows, making sure no one else stumbled upon this scene, wanting to keep his and his wife's disgrace as secret as possible. He had returned to their room then, and retched violently into a bowl, before he began destroying their room, violently packing her things.

He fought to regain his composure, and by the time she returned, he was as stoic as his father had always been.

"I could have forgiven you anyone else, Eowyn. Anyone but him." His voice was eerily calm, belaying the chaos that was their room.

"You have two choices," he began, as though this had been a rehearsed speech, not waiting for any comment from her. "You may go to Ithilien. The house has several rooms finished. You will stay there until I come to join you. Beregond and a small company shall escort and stay with you. Your other choice, if you have no love left for me, is to return to Rohan, to your brother and your people. I will not have you wither in a loveless marriage, and I will not be disgraced by your affairs. Our bond will be broken and you will be released of all duties to me, save that you will send me the child when he or she is 10, to learn the duties of the Steward."

"Can I not stay with you?" Her voice wavered. She had not thought he would send her away.

"You have forfeit that choice."

"Then there is but one choice," she replied tearfully, "I shall go to Ithilien."

"Very well," he responded, "You leave in the morning. The servants think you are going to make the household ready. That is what you will do. This is NOT to be known to anyone."

"What of the child?" she asked. "Will you come for his birth?"

"I will try."

With that, he nodded to her, then made to leave, but Eowyn reached out to grab his arm. He yanked it back as if burned.

"Will you not look at me?" she pleaded.

"I cannot!" he shouted. "Do you not understand? Anyone but him, Eowyn! Now I have a face for my nightmares! I see his hands on you, his lips. I see you kneeling before him. I see my child," and here his voice broke, "with his eyes. How could you? You knew how I felt about him! How can I trust that this child is mine?" She saw that he was shaking with barely contained rage, yet she could not let him leave.

"I did not mean to hurt you, you must know that. I do not love him. That's not what this was about," she said earnestly.

He laughed coldly, turning on her. "No? Then what was it about? Sex? You just could not bear lying with me? You seemed to enjoy it at the time. Of course, I am not a King…"

"You are being cruel."

"I am being cruel? I hope he was worth it, Eowyn." Again, he turned to leave.

"Faramir, please!" She fell to her knees, throwing herself at his feet, and his body stiffened. In his mind, he saw her again, kneeling before Aragorn. "Please," she breathed, meeting his eyes, her face streaked by makeup and tears. She was desperate to keep him there. He looked down at her, his eyes cold and narrow, as if in a daze, seeing someone else there. Then suddenly, he moved. His hands, shaking with anger and frustration, made quick work of his pants. He did not even take the time to push them down, simply pulling his hard length out and, before Eowyn could react his hand was in her hair, shoving her towards him. He wanted to erase Aragorn from her body, replace the taste with his own. She tried to protest, pushing against him, but he said to her coldly, "You do this for him, yet you will deny your husband?" Finally, she opened her mouth to him, and he began to frantically move inside her, not caring that she was trying desperately to breathe around him and her sobbing.

As quickly as it began, it was over, with Faramir shaking and groaning his release down her throat. He came back to himself in a few moments, wide-eyed with disbelief. She was laying on the floor, weeping and coughing, her hair in disarray. She looked up at him, a beseeching look in her eye, yet he was so disgusted with himself, all he could do was turn and leave, saying roughly, "Finish packing. I will come for you in the morning."


End file.
